Demons

Yep, it's still about the stitch. 
The lesson I want to pay close attention to
is stopping before too much unwanted
happens. No stitching just for the
sake of doing it.

happy Saturday

A. You mean like this? 

 

It's been suggested that I keep this set for myself and nail this particular arrangement in place with stitches. I'm mulling it over. Meanwhile I'm all better except for a bruise in the crook of my right arm that looks like I lost a bull fight. Sparing you pictures here.

Four new tasty  ones posted this morning....

Meanwhile, I'm off to work with high hopes that there will be no slip and falls, choking on oyster crackers, rear end collisions, etc and so on ad infinitum. There's a game on a seven and I have sewing to do.

let's play Operation!

After several weeks of struggle - mucking out the winter debris, finding and buying a replacement pump, we had to invest in a bottle of BLACK DEATH...to turn the pool from deep acid green to this lovely, if cloudy blue.

I am banned from the water for one week -time for the particulate to settle to the bottom - by doctors orders. My day surgery of a girly sort went well but I spent most of the daylight hours sleeping off the anesthesia.  What a waste and a bore. And now we are in for a spell of grisly weather.

too many choices

 

Part of my creative trouble in the studio is too many choices - I won't bore you with pictures of total chaos. It's too much input. I can hardly get close enough to the design walls to hang anything up. totally out of control. So yesterday before work I (over)selected some scraps for the travel bag. We've been terribly busy at the office - back to back calls never used to be the norm - but last night there was space and some silence between calls for thought and nonthinking and something new emerged. The fabrics balk at first and then fall into place and offer maturity, import and mystery. All the things I wanted from the work tonight. We'll see how it looks by the light of day.

                  

and once again I'm questioning the stitch.

 

things to be grateful for:


Homemade Chinese broccoli and chicken is successful.
Butter cream mocha bars are on the weekend wishlist.
The mortgage will get paid, just.
Braves sweep the Brewers in a day game
Karma brings a chipmunk to the deck, full of her old huntress self.
I praise her and the chipmunk makes a break for it while Karma is congratulating herself.
Vin played some incredible sets and the assholes let up long enough for me to listen and think.
Someone in the office is wearing a new and wonderful scent or is it the window cleaning stuff the cleaner guy is spritzing around the office?

treading water with cloth and stitch

Voodoo's eloquently evil expression asks me why I don't spend more time on something productive like mouse farming or tuna fishing?                         Nothing creative floats up that I can grab onto and run with.    

Mindless stitching is almost as bad a endless games of online scrabble - the minutes slip away and you've  nothing to show for it but cat blankets. Still, for the moment, passing time is what I have to distract me from momentary medical annoyances. Then I read about the real travails of Kate at  Needled and MV at Instant Poetry and I can quickly suck it up and quit bitching about a little achey arthritis or jet engines in my head.                                                            

Right after this shot, he bit me on the arm when I tried to take the cloth back and Voodoo, unlike the girls, does not pull his punches. Thanks buddy. You old grouch.